Chapter 2 The Lycan king's command

Lucian Ravenwood's icy blue eyes fixated on Ophelia, unwavering and unyielding, and her breath caught. He stood in the center of the vast study, his tall figure silhouetted by the towering bookcases, each one filled with knowledge and secrets, both of which he appeared to have in abundance. Ophelia could sense the tension in the air between them and the heaviness of his stare bearing down on her.

Lucian's voice was a low rumble as he said, "This contract binds you to me for one year." There are no attachments, no feelings. You belong to me. For a year, and no longer.

Swallowing hard, Ophelia's fingers quivered a little as they clutched the rear of the chair she was seated in. Though the words were piercing and sliced her like ice, her mind would not understand their meaning in actuality. This king, this man, had bought her as if she were a trinket to be shown at his pleasure, a simple item.

Ophelia, you are connected to me, he said, his voice strong but lacking sympathy. You will follow my orders. No exceptions will exist.

Ophelia's heart raced and her chest grew constricted. Ready to object, she opened her mouth but found the words stuck in her throat. She was stuck. This was the existence she had been pushed into.

Are you going to oppose me on this? Lucian's tone changed; under the frigid surface, a challenge remained.

Trying to calm her rushing heart, she momentarily shut her eyes. Finally, she inquired, "What if I don't agree to it?" her voice showing no of the anxiety she experienced.

Lucian's lips twisted into a quick grin, but it was cold. His eyes unblinking, he replied, "You have no option." You might fight, but ultimately you will be mine.

The words made Ophelia tremble. How could she say no to him? He was a king; she was only a pawn in his game. Still, there was something more, something that pulled her in despite her reluctance. His dangerous appeal, which clung to him like a second skin, was as much as the power he held. The same thing that both horrified and captivated her.

Ophelia's pulse quickened as Lucian approached her, his presence overpowering. Not yet could she resist it. She would, however. She had no choice.

The burden of the contract bearing down on her chest made Ophelia's mind race as she walked around her room. With each passing stride, she felt more weight. The air in the palace was suffocating, rich with the smell of power and luxury. But it was killing her. She could not remain here. She would not.

She looked out the window. The night was dark, the moon a faint sliver in the sky throwing sweeping shadows across the garden below. She had to go. She had no other option.

Her heart raced in her chest as she approached the window. Her getaway had to be silent, fast. Though the guards were stationed at the entryway, she knew a little side door buried under thick plants that went to the back courtyard. She had seen it previously, a slight gleam of hope in a location devoid of it.

In the quiet, her fingers struggled with the latch, making a sharp metal-on-metal scraping noise. The door opened gently with a groan, letting in a chilly wind to greet her. It was only a few steps away from freedom.

A voice, however, halted her cold in her tracks before she could grab them.

Running once more?

Ophelia stood still, her blood freezing. Tyler

Turning slowly, her heart sank as his shadowed form came into view. Once warm and kind, his eyes were now icy, and analytical. The man who had previously meant everything to her now stood in her way. He was out of place. He was unable to.

Tyler continued, his voice quiet, somewhat disappointed, "I told you not to attempt it." Though his posture was relaxed, the sharpness in his eyes revealed the ambient stress.

Ophelia attempted to control her breathing. I'm gone. Tyler, I won't remain here. Not with that man. Not with any of it.

Tyler's jaw clenched as he moved closer, his gaze fixed on hers. Running, you believe, will fix this? Do you believe you will flee him, flee me?

His voice's finality made her flinch. He was not incorrect. But she had to go. Nor in this cage, nor under the Lycan King.

More to herself than to him, she remarked, "I'll find a way out."

Tyler moved forward, hand outstretched as if to halt her. Ophelia, you cannot escape this.

Ophelia had wished the time Tyler departed would give her some calm, but the stillness of her chamber only amplified her inner conflict. Her mind was a jumbled wreck, she sat by the window gazing out at the starry courtyard. She was trapped. Bound to Lucian, the king who had claimed her, she found herself unable to escape; the chains of his dominion appeared to tighten with each passing second.

She didn't want to experience this pull, this certain link between them. Though it scared her, she couldn't disregard it. Lucian had a power over her that was beyond her understanding. He was more than simply her captor. He was something other, something deeper that made her both want and dread him.

A gentle knock on the door broke her thoughts. She didn't have to enquire about its identity. She could feel him in the air, as though his very presence had penetrated the walls. Lucian

Ophelia, his voice said gently from behind the door. I have to talk to you.

Before she could stop herself, she stood, her body reacting to the sound of his voice. She did not, however, open the door. She was unable to. She was unprepared.

Lucian's voice was calm, almost soothing, but still dominating. "Please, Ophelia," he said. This is doable. I can simplify this for you.

She sensed his presence through the door, his aura oozing through the fissures. Her heart raced as she fought the need to open it.

Lucian's voice became more forceful and insistent: "Open the door, Ophelia."

Leaning her forehead against the cool window glass, Ophelia shut her eyes. The chill of the stone against her skin contrasted sharply with the warmth rising in her chest. She understood his desires. He wanted her to surrender, to accept him. He wanted her to fall in line, to embrace the world he had set for her.

Ophelia, however, was unsure whether she could. She wasn't certain whether she wanted to.

The door opened just a crack, creaking slightly. Lucian's voice, now quieter and more fragile, whispered through.

Ophelia, I can simplify this for you. I only need your faith.

She shuddered, caught between the want to fight and the odd wish to enter his universe.

Could she believe him? Could she have faith in herself?

Facing Ophelia from across the dimly lighted room, Lucian Ravenwood, the Lycan King, made her stand still. A silent witness to the tension between them, the frigid stone walls appeared to shut in on her. Lucian's gaze was fierce, his sharp features shadowed, and she couldn't help but feel the burden of his presence, so domineering and oppressive.

Lucian's voice was silky but tinged with an undercurrent of menace as he remarked, "You're getting restless." His gaze was like a vice, holding her in position; his eyes never left hers.

Unwilling to reveal the quiver threatening to consume her, Ophelia folded her arms. Her voice more stable than she felt, she retorted, "I'm not your prisoner, Lucian." You cannot govern me.

With every purposeful step, Lucian moved closer, his boots resonating off the marble floor. His presence surrounding her let her feel his breath warm across her skin as he stopped inches from her. Unspoken tension hummed in the air between them; the pull between them was clear but perilous.

"I can't, or I won't?" Lucian said softly, his words loaded with significance. He leaned in just enough for her to sense the sheer force radiating from him. You believe you are free, Ophelia. The instant you entered my realm, you were tied by far more than a contract.

Ophelia's heart raced, but she gritted her teeth and refused to exhibit weakness. She had already sacrificed too much: her freedom, her choice, her very will. The thought that she in any way belonged to him made her stomach turn, but what could she do? What options did she have?

Reading her every feeling, every unsaid thought, Lucian stepped nearer once more, his gaze narrowing. He murmured gently, nearly pityingly, "You will soon know." "I told you, resist all you want. Ophelia, you will ultimately belong to me.

The words struck Ophelia like a punch, causing her pulse to race in her chest. Tightening her throat was either fear or rage; she remained silent. What could she possibly say? He was correct. She had no option but to accept the reality forced upon her.

Lucian hesitated at the door as he turned to go. His voice became softer, as though the steel of his power had momentarily slipped to expose something darker behind.

His voice was low yet strong, "Don't test me again."

As the door closed behind him, Ophelia stood there motionless. Left alone, her heart still pounding, a combination of rage and something else, something she couldn't exactly identify, filling her chest. Could it be fear? Or maybe something even more harmful?

Her room's deep stillness was like a prison. Lucian's comments whirled in Ophelia's head as she walked back and forth. Bound by a contract she could not escape, she was chained to him. Every marble column and shining chandelier, every corner of this palace, reminded her of that reality.

She strolled to the little corner room library. Nothing that would assist her grasp the intricacy of her circumstances, the shelves were stocked with books about history, politics, and military techniques. The leather-bound cover was silky under her fingers as she took a book from the shelf. Her thoughts, though, were miles away.

Though she tried to concentrate, her thoughts inevitably returned to him, the guy she could not flee. Luca. His Majesty. The frigid, austere presence who had stated unequivocally that her fight was irrelevant.

She had to leave.

But with time running out, the idea of fleeing seems less practical. The palace's walls were excessively tall. There were too many guards. She would always be caught no matter how quickly she ran. Even if she did escape, where could she go? She had nowhere left to hide. No haven, no escape.

As she returned the book to the shelf, Ophelia's hands shook a little. Instead, she looked out the window at the great courtyard below. Though all she saw was darkness, the moonlight bathed the grounds in an ethereal radiance. A gloom that reflected her sense of despair.

Then she heard it: the slightest corridor movement murmur.

Her heart leaped. Tyler

She knew the sound of his footfall even before she saw him. His presence still hung like a shadow in the back of her mind; she hadn't seen him since the day she had been brought here.

Ophelia spun around fast, her throat seizing in her breath. Her feet hardly made a sound on the stone floor as she walked towards the entrance. She opened it just enough to see him standing there, his broad shoulders framed by the gentle illumination of the corridor.

Tyler appeared as he always had, strong and confident, but his eyes revealed something different. Something that had not before existed.

For a minute, he looked at her, his eyes dark and torn.

His voice was low and laden with an emotion Ophelia couldn't identify, he said, "You're not as strong as you think, Ophelia." Could it be regret? Or was it something more sinister?

Ophelia's throat constricted and her heart raced in her chest. Having seen him again made her months of effort to bury the memories of their past all the more difficult. It risked undoing what she had toiled so hard to forget.

Her hands balled into fists at her sides, she said vehemently, "Stay away from me." You brought me here. You let me down.

For a brief while, Tyler's expression wavered. Ophelia, I never meant to harm you. You must have faith in that.

His comments struck her like a punch, but she turned away and forced herself not to let him know how much his presence still influenced her.

She wasn't sure if it was the strength of his stare or the way his voice broke that made her heart stumble, but she knew one thing for certain: Tyler Wolfe was still the one person she could never fully escape, no matter how far she attempted to flee.